


there's nothing to get up about

by ZeroFizzy



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Clubbing, Concussions, Drunkenness, Gen, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, will/george if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroFizzy/pseuds/ZeroFizzy
Summary: george gets very drunk on a night out and gets a concussion. the boys try to help.





	1. a normal night out in canary wharf

**Author's Note:**

> yeah hello i'm back after like a full month of inactivity. i have no idea what this is but i had this idea so im just gonna roll with it. i wrote this at literally one in the morning, running on minimal sleep, so it might be hard to read. sorry. i tried my best lmao.
> 
> (title is taken from 'go out' by blur because it came on my playlist when i wrote this lmao)

<strike></strike>It started like a normal night out, really. It was Alex's birthday, and James and Fraser had suggested the best way to spend it would be to get him completely and utterly wasted.

Alex, already relatively wasted, had thought this was a brilliant idea.

And so, Alex, James, Fraser, Will, George, and everyone else they could convince to come so last minute, began the commute to the nearest club. James had even suggested taking Kenji along, but even in the tipsy haze of a day of drinking games and group Fifa, everyone could agree that was a terrible idea.

Eventually, after a reasonable amount of shouting and wrong turnings, they found themselves at a small place called 'Eden's Gate' or 'Gate of Eden' or something to that effect, with sickly fluorescent lighting, thumping, tuneless music that began to pound away the sanity after too long, and most importantly; lots of alcohol.

It was perfect. One could even call it a paradise, if your idea of paradise was cheap Year 2 school disco-Esque lighting effects and hundreds of utterly smashed twenty-something-year-olds wiggling around without rhythm, surrounded by a smell that could only be described as if somebody took a leak in a beer bottle.

However, it was exactly what they were looking for. A normal night out in Canary Wharf. For a while, at least.

\---

Will was starting to wonder why he'd ever found clubs enjoyable. Ah. Because he'd always been drunk at the last ones he'd been to. As soon as they'd walked into 'Eden Gate', or whatever it was called, it'd occurred to him that they probably wouldn't all be able to walk out again. Or walk in general, most likely.

On the average lads night, James would take the place as the relatively sober one. He'd wrangle George out of doing whatever ridiculous stunt he'd decided on that night (it would usually involve climbing something high or breaking something expensive), get Fraser as far away from other lifeforms as physically possible (alcohol seemed to target his social filter the most), show remarkable tolerance to Alex's sloppy, drunken advances, and make sure to always walk behind Will in case he fell over (which happened more than he'd care to admit).

However, James had drifted off somewhere at the start of the night, and was showing no signs of turning up again anytime soon, at least not with any sobriety left, so Will had decided to take on the responsibility of 'the sober one' in the group for the night.

He was hating every minute of it.

He rubbed his fingers against his temples. The sickly green and purple flashing fluorescents were making his head spin, and the thump thump thump of the house music became less of a pleasant ambience and more of migraine inducer the less alcohol he had in his system. He sighed groggily and looked around. May as well check on the boys if he was playing responsible tonight.

His eyes found Alex almost instantly. Clearly, the incredibly drunk Alex had already found his favourite spot in any club - the centre of the dancefloor. He was doing a strange kind of breaststroke movement with his arms, with all the grace and coordination of a bear on speed. The other people in his vicinity were all looking at him, drunkenly transfixed, as if they didn't know whether they wanted to cry or laugh. Will was too tired to do either.

Then, Will saw him, the smug bastard. James, visibly not sober, was standing behind Alex, his exaggerated whooping and clapping thankfully drowned out by the pounding music but still very visible to Will. He was tempted to go up to James and shout at him for forcing him into this position, but he stopped himself. James deserved to have a bit of fun for once instead of clearing up after them all the time, Will could manage one night.

Tearing his eyes away from the dance floor before he died of second-hand embarrassment, Will looked for the others. He spotted Fraser, swaying on his feet a little bit as he tried to impress an attractive woman sitting at the bar. Will couldn't hear the conversation from where he was standing, but from the looks of things, Fraser wasn't succeeding. Will laughed to himself and set about looking for George.

Oh no. George.

In the sweaty haze of the club, Will had completely forgotten about George. George, the calmest sober but probably the one who got into the worst state as soon as alcohol was in the equation. Alex had James, Fraser had the poor lass trying to enjoy her drink, George was on his own probably scaling the building by this point. 

Will used his slightly above average height to his advantage, craning his neck to look over people's heads, squeezing through tight-packed groups of people with drinks and sloppy, hammered conga lines that had gone astray from the dance floor, Will was just about to try outside when-

Oh for the love of God.

George was standing on a two-seater table, clearly struggling to keep his balance as he swayed dangerously and waved what looked like a wine glass around. A small crowd of tipsy club-goers had gathered in a pact around him, cheering him on and chanting things Will couldn't make out. 

"Oi, George mate, get down," He shouted over the sound of the club, awkwardly trying to slide through the people and towards George.

George perked up, waved uncoordinatedly, and yelled something that sounded sort of like 'You alright?', but was too slurred for Will to be sure.

"Get off the table before you break something, you mong. It's not a good enough AdSense month to pay damages," Will tried to joke, but a grimace slipped through as he realised the table was a lot taller than previously thought, which meant further to fall for an incredibly drunk person.

"Piss off, Will'ny" George slurred, almost losing his balance entirely before just about regaining it. Will finally managed to get to the edge of the table. He had a plan.

He hesitated to ask, but he remembered that George would probably be far too hungover by tomorrow to give him shit for it, so he sucked it up "Alright, mate, you're in no state to jump or climb anything, alright? So I'm gonna grab your waist, lift you down, and we'll be done with it, yeah?"

George stared at him in a silent stupor as his brain tried to catch up with what was being said, before he flopped his head from side to side in a childish kind of head shake and crossed his arms "Th'sounds gay, Will" he slurred out.

Will sighed, exasperated. He stepped back, gently pushing back the gathered crowd a few paces and leaving a small patch of floor space between him and the table "Alright, if y'gonna be a pain just... jump down or something and I'll try and stop you from killing yourself, 'right?"

George stared blankly at him for a minute, before eventually nodding. Will let out a quiet sigh of relief. However, just as George looked ready to climb off, the crowd behind Will was thrown forward towards the table. It lurched, before tipping over onto the floor with a heavy, dull, thud. George fell down with it.

It might've been the remains of alcohol in his system emerging for the moment, but the whole scene seemed to play out in slow motion in front of him. George slid feet-first onto the ground, the back of his head smacking against the table with a thunk on the way down. The little crowd slipped into complete silence, and began to awkwardly disperse, leaving Will in the company of nothing but the thump thump thump of the awful music as he tried to work out what to do next.

His brain caught up to him, and he jumped the table, squatting down at George's side "Shit, mate, you alright?" he asked, straining to be heard over the club noise. George lay against the table, blinking slowly, staring unfocused at nothing. He didn't reply.

Suddenly enough to make Will flinch, George lurched forward, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Hey. Hey, George, hey, talk to me. What's going on?" 

"M'gon be sick" George mumbled

"Shit. Alright. Can't say I'm surprised. Hold on" Will didn't ask before he slung George's arm over his shoulder, lifting him up and trying to walk him towards the door. As he pulled him towards the exit, Will became suddenly aware of how small George really was. He could feel that, as they progressed, he was putting more and more weight on Will, but he weighed less than some of the taller lasses he'd gone out with over the years. Will kept a mental note to make sure George ate enough in future.

Finally, they reached the door they came in through. As soon Will pulled George's dead weight through the door, George collapsed against the wall.

"Hey, hey, alright, come on," Will caught George by the waist, and almost instantly George lurched over violently again, vomiting on the cool pavement until Will was sure there couldn't be anything else left to come up. Gently, Will guided him further down the road, away from the bile, and sat him down against a wall. 

"There go all the drinks, I suppose" Will tried to joke. George stared at the pavement in silence. "Hey, stay with me, man. You gotta stay with me. Are you alright?"

George clamped his eyes shut, rocking back and forth a little, as if the dim streetlights were too bright, but still didn't reply.

"Oi. I'm not making light small talk 'ere. Does your head hurt?"

Finally, George nodded painfully.

"Okay. Understandable. Can you stand up?"

George mumbled something incoherently. The problem with trying to hold a conversation with drunk George, Will had come to realise, was he either shouted every word he said, or was barely audible. There was no in-between. George was clearly at the second stage.

"Didn't even remotely catch that, mate, try again" Will prompted

"Prob'ly n't" George mumbled, slightly louder this time. George finally looked up at him, and Will realised with a start how ill he really looked. Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a tipsy looking Fraser jogged out, followed by a relatively panicked, and now fully sober, James.

"I saw you taking George out and he looked a bit unconscious so I grabbed James as soon as I could," Fraser said quickly, by way of an explanation.

"Oh, thank God" Will breathed out

"What the bloody hell happened to him?" James whisper-shouted, darting towards George and kneeling down next to him.

Will took the hint and stood up "Got overexcited and thought he was some kind of table wizard, I think" Will joked awkwardly. James looked at him, stone-serious, and Will stopped his attempts to lighten it up "Fell off a table. Hit his head pretty bad. Threw up a minute ago but that's abou' it"

James was clearly going into mother hen mode, so Will stepped back and left him to it. He looked towards Fraser and, pushing down his worry about George for a moment, grinned at him "So, who wants to try and get Alex off the dance floor?"

"Oh God, I'll let you do that one,"


	2. bonus chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the dreaded morning after arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i was gonna leave this as a one-shot but i had a lot of fun with it so here's a quick finale. its a bit more light-hearted than the first half, and probably a lot more coherent as its only 11pm as of writing instead of two in the morning like last time lmao (i read it back this morning and i was impressed it was even legible tbh)  
but yeah, this rlly is the last part. enjoy.

There was one thing about nights out which Alex really didn't enjoy, and that was when they ended. Specifically, the morning after they ended. 

As soon as he woke up, he became aware of two things; the first, he was lying down in something that felt oddly like an empty bathtub, the second-

Shit. His head really, really hurt.

The second was there was a strange weight on his chest, like he had something sitting on it. He finally pried his eyelids apart and took a look and as soon as he did he could see exactly what that second thing was. There was something sitting on it, something of the Shiba Inu variety.

"Kenji!" Alex sputtered, physically recoiling as the sound of his own voice bit at his post-drink headache. Kenji, alarmed by the sudden movement, scrambled off of him and onto the floor, bolting out of the bathroom and out of sight with a scrabble of claws on wood.

"Eugh," Alex moaned under his breath, sliding back into the bath. For a moment he felt like sleeping, but he realised that probably wouldn't help much in his current state. He clamped his eyes shut and slowly stood up, stepping out of the tub. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been bent out of position and bent back again, and he decided in his hungover haze of pain, he'd ask the soberest person he bumped into that day for a back massage. 

Alex stumbled through the hallway, unable to decide whether he'd rather close his eyes to shield from the too-bright daylight or actually see where he was going. He wished he'd ended up at his own flat instead of Fraser and James', it would've made navigation so much easier.

Eventually, he made it to the kitchen, practically collapsing into one of the dining chairs without even checking if anybody else was in there.

"Y'alright, mate?" Will's voice rang out, way louder than Alex's head could take this morning. Alex looked up at him. He was in his favourite black hoodie and tracksuit bottoms combo, with his laptop open on the table in front of him. Other than the dark bags under his eyes, which were pretty par for the course with Will, he looked perfectly functioning. It was starting to piss Alex off a bit.

"M' barely alive. How are you so cheery?" Alex grumbled

"Stayed sober, me. Felt like playing drunk wrangler for a night. You want water? I put some in the fridge"

Alex nodded, taking the glass from Will gratefully and gulping it.

"The bath didn't do you much good, did it?" Will joked

Alex swallowed "Yeah, actually, why was I in the bath?" he asked sharply

"Well, we all agreed George probably needed a bed, and I nicked Fraser's because he was too out of it to shout at me, and you passed out in the bath anyway so we just decided t'leave you in there"

"Oh thanks, Will" Alex said sarcastically, taking another drink of his water. Will giggled insufferably. 

Alex opened his mouth to make another remark, but was stopped by the sound of somebody entering the kitchen.

"I think I'm actually dying," George said hoarsely, leaning his head against the doorway

"Mate, you look like it," Will said bluntly, concern edging his voice

"How much did you drink? You look like a car crash victim" Alex asked, a bit alarmed. It was true, George like he'd just stepped out of his own open-casket funeral. He was blinking rapidly, as if struggling to keep his eyes focused. His skin was somehow paler than usual, and he was swaying like he'd forgotten how to stand upright.

"I feel like I've got two hangovers at once" George croaked, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Ah, that's probably the concussion," Will said casually

"What?" George asked, looking up at Will sharply

"You hit your head off the side of a bar table, man. You couldn't walk in a straight line for th' next hour, we had to get James to carry you back to the flat"

Alex couldn't help but let out a roar of laughter at that. He couldn't remember any of last night beyond the vaguest details of events, but the mental image of George being carried like a small child had made his morning.

George shot a glare at him "Yeah, alright, Alan. If you think that's such a knee-slapper why don't you check James' Instagram story. Mong" George swished around clumsily, stumbling down the hallway and around a corner

"Oi, where are you off to?" Will yelled, leaning back on his chair

"Back to bed" George shouted, before shuffling back around the corner into view of the kitchen "I hate both of you" he said, flipping them off and leaving again. After a moment, the distant sound of a door clicking shut rang out, followed by the unmistakable noise of muffled vomiting. 

"Glad I don't need to clear that up," Alex quipped, slouching back in his chair and playing with one of the drawstrings on his Internet Gaylord hoodie.

Will chuckled at that, before standing up "I'm gonna go and check on the lads, make sure they haven't died yet. Oh, do check James' story though. George was right, premium content that," and with that, Will left as well, padding out of sight.

Alex took his phone out of his pocket, cautiously opening Instagram. His top notification was that James had tagged him in a story. Shit, that wasn't a good sign. He opened the alert.

There were five slides. Five slides washed in the sickly green and purple lighting of the club, but still, clear as day, was Alex. Dancing. Or more, doing a kind of drugged-up swimming motion. Also clear as day was the large amount of people standing around him in the video cheering him one, some wielding phones and likely also filming. Alex put his phone face down on the table and sighed, slumping back in his chair and pulling the drawstrings on his hoodie to the tightest they'd go.

God, why could he never have a normal night out?


End file.
